


Good Enough

by chaWOOPa



Series: Red Vs Blue Short Stories [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:24:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaWOOPa/pseuds/chaWOOPa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small girl blinked up at her father, Lego house in hand, standing tall and proud. “Daddy, look what I made out of the little Lego bricks Miss Rachel gave me!” He didn’t even look up from his book. “Daddy!” She exclaimed, reaching a small hand out to pull his book down a little so he would look at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Enough

A small girl blinked up at her father, Lego house in hand, standing tall and proud. “Daddy, look what I made out of the little Lego bricks Miss Rachel gave me!” He didn’t even look up from his book.

“Daddy!” She exclaimed, reaching a small hand out to pull his book down a little so he would look at her. He did so reluctantly and a little annoyed.

“What do you want, Sweetheart?”

“Look at what I made all on my own today,” she held up her house proudly. “I even put a roof on and everything!”

He looked at it critically before saying, “You can do better sweetheart, now go play in your room, I’m busy.” He went right back to reading, effectively blocking out the crestfallen look on his daughter’s face.

The little girl ran to her room and slammed her door. She stood in the middle of her strangely pristine room and looked at the colorful block in her hands for a minute before throwing it across the room. The Lego contraption shattered against the wall, sending bricks flying everywhere. Ever since her mom had left two years ago her daddy had been ignoring her, and no matter what she did, it was never good enough to please him.

* * *

The young girl sat in the office at her middle school, sniffling. A clock somewhere nearby chimed, telling her it had been almost an hour since she had called her dad. Her nosebleed had stopped after about twenty minutes, but her arm was still swollen. “Your father should be here any minute,” the woman behind the desk said encouragingly. “After you are taken care of maybe we can get something done about the boys who did this to you, okay?”

The girl nodded, not meeting the woman’s eyes. After another couple minutes passed the middle school girl put her feet up and laid on the bench, cradling her swollen arm. She knew it would be another hour before he came and got her, and she knew exactly what he would say to her in the car on the way to the hospital. She closed her eyes and felt the first tear roll over the bridge of her nose and drip slowly onto the chair. This wasn’t the first time she had been hurt by those kids, and she figured it wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

 

Now a senior in high school, about to decide what she wanted to do with her life, the girl was driving herself home from school. She glanced at the seat next to her and couldn’t stop the grin on her face. _There is no way he can invalidate this_ , she thought to herself.

“Hey, Leonard!” She yelled as she walked into her house. She made her way into the living room just like she had when she was six with her Lego house. “Leonard, look.”

Suddenly she was six years old again and he was paying more attention to the book in his hands than his daughter. She reached out and put the paper on top of his book, effectively stopping his reading. He looked up at her with the same expression he had worn all those years ago.

“What?” he snapped.

“If you would look at the paper I just handed you, you would see that I got my ACT scores, and not only that, but you would see what I got,” she said proudly.

He looked at the paper and his eyebrows rose. “36 is a perfect score, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” she grinned.

“Then why doesn’t it say 36?” He handed her the paper back and went back to his reading.

She took it with shaking hands, not sure if the tears fighting to get out of her eyes were out of anger or sadness. She stood for a second before moving almost dreamlike to her room. It was painted pink with little butterflies hanging from the ceiling and flowery sheets on the bed, just like it had been since her mother left when she was 4 and never came back. The girl looked down at the hateful 35 staring at her from the piece of paper that she thought would finally get his attention and gave up. She collapsed on the floor right in the middle of her room, balling up the piece of paper and throwing it across the room.

The crunch it made wasn’t as satisfying as the sound of hundreds of Lego’s scattering across the floor.

* * *

A young woman stood next to a motorcycle and in front of a hologram. She stood tall and irate despite the storm going on inside her head. Here, standing in front of her, was the very essence of a man who adored her with all his heart. A man who talked about her like she was goddess, a man who died thinking she was dead. Standing in front of her was the last memory of the man she loved most in the world, the man she never got to tell how she felt.

Her hands shook on her rifle and her vision blurred as the recording played. Into her head came a picture of the person who took him from her; the man who told his six year old daughter that she wasn’t good enough; the man who told his 13 year old daughter to suck up the broken arm and bruised ribs because she needed to learn to take care of things for herself; the man who wouldn’t even look his daughter in the eyes when he told her that all her hard work wasn’t enough; the man who turned his daughter and her friends into a psychology experiment that almost got all of them killed and drove the ones who lived insane; into her head came a picture of her father, and she knew that if she didn’t do anything else in the world, she would get her revenge.

* * *

A young, reckless, angry woman walked into the room where the director was. She was battered and bruised and all she had left from fighting her way in was a pistol, an angry AI, and her armor.

She walked in intent on revenge and expecting a stoic, bitter man who would fight back with all he had, but what she found made all that disappear. She found a broken man who had lost his love and in his blind quest to bring her back had lost everything else. She had prepared for pleading, disappointment, anger, any number of things, but hopelessness was not one.

“I understand why she did what she did, I just wish she hadn’t…” York's voice echoed through her skull as the Director and the AI talked. “I wish she could have learned to let things go.”

Carolina looked at the man she used to think held so much power over her and realized she didn’t need to take revenge. He had already paid for it more than anyone could ever make him.

“Agent Carolina,” Her father grabbed her arm as she turned to go.

“Yes Director?”

“Would you be so kind as to leave me your pistol?” She stopped and turned around to put her pistol on the empty table in front of the sad excuse for a man. “Thank you Carolina.”

“Goodbye, sir,” She said gently, turning around and walking out. She didn’t care if the AI was done talking to him, she was finally letting go. _Turns out_ , she thought as she walked away, _You were right, York. I should have learned to let go sooner._

An angry, reckless girl bent on revenge walked into the room that day. A weary, somehow peaceful young woman walked out.


End file.
